


Mageblood

by Viscariafields



Series: Mageblood [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Miscarriage mention, Pregnancy Scare, Unplanned Pregnancy, sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 06:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscariafields/pseuds/Viscariafields
Summary: “Do you want a big family? Because I think if we ever had children at least half of them would be mages.”Hawke thinks she might be pregnant, and they probably should have talked about these things sooner.





	Mageblood

Hawke stared at the ceiling of the tent, hand on her abdomen, trying to count. How long had they been on this particular patch of wilderness? Had it been two weeks? Or three? Not much point in keeping track of the days of the week out here. There was bloody work to be done, and Hawke was good at bloody work.

But this time blood might be the problem. Not enough of it around these days. Two weeks or three, the math just didn’t add up.

“My sister is a mage,” she said, still staring up at nothing. 

“I have known Bethany for some ten years now, Hawke.” Fenris didn’t move from where he was stretched out on his side beside her. His back to her, and it took some effort not to curl up behind him, pull him to her chest, forget this line of thought.

“My father, too.”

“So you’ve told me.”

“Your sister is also a mage.”

“What of it?” Now he turned, brows furrowed at her choice of conversation.

“Do you want a big family? Because I think if we ever had children at least half of them would be mages.”

The silence before his response was suffocating. Or maybe it was the stale air in the tent.

“Are you…?”

“No,” she said quickly. Perhaps too quickly. He didn’t look like he believed her. His eyes flashed down to her belly, as if he would be able to tell. Fenris was also able to do math, after all. “I’m not,” she insisted. “But it’s something you should think about. In case… in case it ever comes to that. If you could… if you could love a mage.”

She was setting course for the Inquisition tomorrow. Plenty of time for him to decide. Plenty of time for her to pretend. Or the baby might never come. They did that a lot, so she heard. Start making preparations for a baby and then whoops, the Maker had other plans, and _his_ were the only plans that ever reliably bore fruit. She was about to spend the better part of a month on a horse, and all that jostling—could there really be another life lodged firmly enough inside of her to hold on through all that?

But then look at its parents. An ex-slave who saved himself from a lifetime of servitude and torture, and a refugee who became the Champion of a foreign city. They were the definition of survivors. If a baby could be conceived out here between all the murdering of blood mages and slavers and blood mage slavers, and if it could hold on through the travel to Ferelden without becoming lost on the roads, if it could continue surviving through whatever the Inquisition had in store for her…

Then… perhaps there might be another Hawke in the world.

Fenris was still watching her, and she found his expression unreadable. He worked through things quietly, in his own time. But she realized she needed him to work through this one a little faster.

“At least Anders spared us the argument about whether or not we’d send them all off to the Circle,” she said, attempting a joke. It fell flat.

“Of course I would,” he said, his intense stare on her.

“What, are you going to make a new Circle just to lock up your children?” She couldn’t stop her voice from wavering. “That’s one way to get out of fatherhood, I guess.”

“No.” He brought a hand to her face, a stroke across her cheek. “I mean of course I would love them.”

“Oh.” She wondered if he could see it, too, that future. His eyes, her nose. His skin and her hair. A terror. An absolute terror. “Are you sure? Because—”

He silenced her with a thumb on her lips. “I don’t know if I have the skills to be a father. I don’t remember my own. But I do know I would tear the world apart before I would let anyone take you or our potential… if we had any… our children.”

He stumbled over the word, but she knew he meant it. He was a hypocrite that way. Always had been, though he’d never admit it. She kissed him fiercely, already regretting her decision to go help the Inquisition. As she tore his clothes off, she missed him already, missed this already. She’d spent too many years unable to touch him, too many years aching to be held. She’d only just begun to get her fill of him. And Maker, she thought, as Fenris started to glow beneath her, his hips thrusting up into her, her thighs beginning to quake, did she love getting fucked by this man. Basking in his ridiculously literal afterglow, she tucked herself against him, and she reflected how that had caused all of this in the first place.

“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? If you were…”

“Yes,” she lied. No, not a lie. There was just no way to be sure, at this point. It’s not like she had ever done it before. And by the time she knew, really knew, everyone else would, too, probably.

“I should come with you tomorrow.”

She held him even tighter. “You can’t. These people need you. There’s so much still to be done here.”

He must have agreed, because he didn't press the issue. When the morning came, she left him behind in Tevinter, and she set off alone. From here until Skyhold, the only company she would keep was her own.

Probably. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> I personally think Fenris is way more talk about mages and magic than actual belief. I think that talk probably helped him deal with his bitterness and trauma, but when it comes down to people he actually cares about... he's kind of a hypocrite. And honestly, who isn't a little?
> 
> Anyway, I was recently playing DA2 again, and this conversation sort of sprung into my mind.


End file.
